On a cold day in December in the early eighties, my dad saw a man walking down the highway carrying an old sewing machine. My dad stopped and offered the man a ride. As the miles passed, the man shared that he had taken his late wife’s sewing machine into town for repairs because he needed to mend his young son’s clothes. It was apparent the man was facing some very difficult times.
He said his son wanted a BB gun for Christmas, but he could not afford it. As he often did, my father offered to help. The next week my mom and I accompanied my dad to a small home in need of repairs on the outskirts of town. I will never forget the joy of that little boy as we unloaded gifts of clothes, toys and food. No sooner than he had opened his much-anticipated BB gun, the boy turned and ran to his room asking us to wait. He came back with a gift that he presented to my mom. [Continue reading]